Moonlight Sonata
by Sarapercival333
Summary: Hamilton and Natalie couldn't stand each other. They bristle at the sight of each other. But the two have their own problems and they just happen to need each other to resolve those problems. Will they be able to keep their hands off each other's throats?
1. Chapter 1

Moonlight Sonata

Hamilton Holt flicked his cigarette at the ground. He was in a bad mood, a really bad mood. He wanted to smash something against the wall and watch it crumble into a million pieces. He wanted to scream at someone until his throat hurt. But most of all, he wanted to smack the groom's head into a wall and scream at him for marrying _her._

He was attending his ex-girlfriend's wedding reception. You see, he hadn't gotten over her just yet. And now, he was cursing himself for even attending the ceremony.

After a few moments of brooding, he finally decided to go back to his table. He might as well enjoy the food while it was still hot.

Earlier on in the reception, when the guests were still being ushered to tables, he had the misfortune of getting placed beside one art dealer extraordinaire Natalie Kabra. She was wearing a white Gucci sundress and her sleek brown hair was in a perfectly-done perm. She had little to no make-up on and a pair of sunglasses was perched on top of her head. Hamilton thought she looked beautiful today.

Not that he'd say that out loud. And anyway, they weren't, strictly-speaking, friends. They could even barely stand the presence of one another. That fact could be attributed to a lot of things like Hamilton thinking that Natalie was nothing but a pile of expensive shoes and bags while Natalie thought that Hamilton was too clumsy for his own good and so on and so forth.

She visibly sucked in an irritated breath when he had sat beside her. But her hands didn't leave the Blackberry she held before her. That alone, he was thankful for. He was thankful that he didn't have to face her. For some reason, even after the five Branches had signed a permanent peace treaty, the two still couldn't stand the sight of each other.

The closest they got to rapport was during a cocktail party when they were forced to, yet again, sit with each other. That was the only time that they had stroke up a real conversation. (It was about birds and it was mighty awkward.)

He reached for a piece of the roast duck. When he was about to put the slice onto his plate, his arm managed to hit his seatmate's champagne glass. The liquid spilled to the tablecloth and some of the drops trickled to the screen of her Blackberry and dress.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, helping her sort out the mess. Some of the attendants of the reception already turned to look at them.

"Wow," she looked up from her Blackberry. Her tone showed no anger or at the very least, vexation. "Could you at least be a little careful with your actions the next time around?"

But it was very clear in her eyes that she was both vexed and angry.

"I already apologized didn't I?" he retorted in the same tone. "What do you want a promisory note?"

"Well, obviously you haven't changed a bit from the clumsy little twit you were the last time I met you," that statement was accompanied with her eyes rolling.

"You know what? I'll just go," he declared as he strode away from that table. The guests had started looking their way. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sinead tense up as she surveyed both guests.

He was having a bad enough day already.

* * *

Hamilton felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he maneuvered his car out of his parking space. He fished it out and looked at the caller ID. Sinead Starling. He took a moment to contemplate whether or not he would answer it. He decided to ignore the call.

He had been through enough for one day. He cursed at the invitation laying innocently on the dashboard.

_Dear guest,_

_We would like to cordially invite you to the wedding of Ms. Sinead Starling and Mr. Jonah Wizard. The wedding ceremony will be held at the St. Andrew Chapel at 10 a.m. The instructions to the wedding are stated below. The wedding reception will be held at the Garden Palace Event Hall at 33rd St._

He let out a sigh. Maybe he shouldn't have attended in the first place.

* * *

Natalie Spencer nee Kabra (Soon to be Kabra again.) was having a bad day, a really bad day.

"What do you mean he still won't sign the divorce papers?" she screamed into her Blackberry. She ran a hand through her perfectly-permed hair.

"He said that he wanted to talk to you," her lawyer said smoothly on the other line. Shawn Mollicky was used to demanding clients like this one. Being a renowned divorce lawyer, he had to be used to dealing with clients of high stature. And usually, such clients had little to no patience.

Shawn was a middle-aged Irish-descent east coaster who had dull but stern green eyes and a round face with a shaved head. He was a formidable figure in his law firm and one of the best in his specialty.

"Tell him we've talked enough!" she exclaimed to the phone. "What more does he want?"

"I reasoned with him. He wouldn't listen. He was pretty insistent Ms. Kabra."

The Briton pinched the bridge of her nose. Could this day get any worse?

"All right," she sighed. Natalie had gone out of the event hall right after Hamilton departed. Her divorce was definitely not going smoothly. Maybe this was one of the downsides to marrying a Hollywood star. They're not used to getting what they want.

"A befitting end to three years of marriage," she thought glumly.

Last month, she had found out that in their years of marriage, he had only been faithful to her for the first three months. She had remembered shedding a tear (or a bucketful) and locking herself inside their bedroom in their 2.5 million dollar townhouse in the outskirts of LA.

He had just left for one of his routine gym trips and incidentally, Nick Spencer left his phone. She had decided to go over to the gym where he said he exercised in. But the receptionist had told her that she hadn't seen him for about a month now, giving her an awful shock. That got the successful 30-year old art dealer to call a few friends.

About half an hour later, she found him lounging in the country club with a skinny blonde girl who looked a decade younger than he.

She had called her lawyer and moved out the day after.

Her phone rang and she answered it. It was Nick.

"Nick," she answered in a calm tone.

"Meet me at the Starbucks cafe on East Street," the man on the other line said. "Are you available now?"

She ended the call and proceeded to the event hall to say her goodbyes.

* * *

Hamilton tapped the bartender to pour him another shot of vodka. A nearby observer could readily conclude that this man had been through a rough day. He couldn't remember but at some point, he had loosened his bowtie and had taken off his blazer.

He was only 33-years old but right now, he felt like a hundred. She was Sinead Wizard now. And there was nothing else he could do. He sighed and drank the vodka. His once-carefully slicked blonde hair was now mussed. He must've ran a hand through it earlier. He could pick out a few strands of grey in his blonde tresses.

This could count as the nadir of his life.

Even more so than the day his father died. And the following of his mother six months after.

He thought about calling Madison or Reagan but then, those two were busy with their own lives.

He sighed.

"One more please."

"Just sign it Nick," Natalie Kabra said exasperatedly as she took a sip of her mocha frappuccino.

"Please, one more chance," he begged. The woman sighed. The longer they stayed here, the bigger the chance the media would photograph them.

"Nick, three years Nick, three years. You were only loyal to me for three fucking months."

Nick Spencer was a renowned Hollywood actor. In the thirty-two years of his life, he had starred in twenty films. He was one of those few kiddie stars who had successfully made the transition to adulthood without any disturbances (drugs, alcohol, etc.).

At thirty-two, he still had his youthful looks and thick red hair. He had few lines on his face.

Some would even say that he and Natalie Kabra were a match made in heaven. They complemented each other greatly. The Briton's prestigious status and natural beauty only served to elevate the actor's position in the Hollywood society and the art dealership that the said Briton owned got more clients when she married him.

Their divorce would be the scandal of the century.

Nick sighed.

"What can I do to change your mind?"

The Briton averted her amber eyes from making contact with his blue ones.

"I'm sorry Nick."

"Will this make you happy?" he asked.

"I don't know but Nick, I'm so tired. You don't know how I've been feeling ever since I caught you with that woman. I don't think I can ever trust you again."

He sighed.

"Please let's just-

She took a deep breath.

"This isn't going anywhere," she thought glumly.

"What do you want Nick?"

"I want to make this work."

"What if I don't want to?" she spat back angrily.

He clenched his jaw. One of the downsides to marrying Nick Spencer was that he was just as much stubborn as she was.

"I love you," the man opposite her said. It sounded more like a plea rather than a statement.

She looked away. A tear making its way down her smooth olive-colored cheek. The divorce papers sat on the table mockingly.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Hamilton didn't know what time it was. He stumbled into his apartment, the alcohol swirling around in his head. He stumbled into the sofa face-first. He didn't care who saw him now. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He didn't even bother to change clothes.

Sleep came easily because of the alcohol he had consumed and he dreamt of happier days. Days when he and Sinead were still together.

Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues or anything associated with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Natalie awoke to the blaring of her alarm clock. She turned from her sleeping position, stomach toward the mattress, to a position where her back was facing the mattress. Her nightshirt was wrinkled and even though she got a full eight hours of sleep, she still felt as exhausted as she felt the day before.

She heaved in a breath and contemplated about the previous day's events.

Sinead Starling's wedding to Jonah Wizard. Nick Spencer still won't sign the divorce papers.

She sighed. She hoped that this day could at least improve a bit.

"One, two, three," she counted off in her mind before getting off her comfortable king-sized bed. She went to the windows to draw back the thin curtains. The rays of light filtered into her apartment the moment she drew it back, like hungry little prisoners who had just been granted their release.

Her three-bedroom loft that she had just purchased a month ago from her personal real estate agent looked gloomy with its current state of emptiness. She didn't know how much, or how little for that fact, things she had brought with her since her move from England.

A few years ago (Five, if she's not mistaken.), her brother had decided to put up a branch in the Americas, just the right place to expand their growing art dealership business. And consequently, she had volunteered to go there for him. She visited England about once a month and stayed there for about a week or so.

She went to her walk-in closet and picked out the clothes she would wear for today. After a few seconds of deliberation, she picked out a black pencil skirt and a sky-blue long-sleeved shirt.

The Brit then headed for the bathroom in her room. (The master bedroom of course.) Each room inside her apartment were equipped with a bathroom. It was one of the things she liked about the place.

On her way, she passed by her handset. She decided to see if she had any new messages. She pressed a few buttons and an electronic female voice signaled that she had two.

"_Hey, it's me, Ian," _started the first message. _"I just wanted to know how you're doing and how the divorce is going through."_

"_Hey, it's me Nick-_

Natalie pressed the delete button without even letting the second message finish.

* * *

Hamilton Holt awoke to the bright sunlight that filtered into his studio apartment that was stationed conveniently near Hollywood (An excuse his agent used to explain the exorbitant price of the apartment.), where he worked as a digital animator. It was a well-paying job and it afforded him luxuries that his job as a software designer in a small company in Milwaukee couldn't afford.

He pushed himself into an upright position but then a throbbing headache wracked his brain and he inevitably pushed himself back down into his previous position.

Hangover was a bitch.

The blonde took several deep breaths before pushing himself back up again. The next thing Hamilton noticed was that he wasn't on his bed. He sighed and glanced at his watch. 8:30 a.m.

The ex-football player proceeded to take off his shirt and pants until he was left in nothing but his boxers. He then went to his closet and took what he would wear for the day. (black slacks, white shirt) He then went into his bathroom and ran the hot water. He then stepped off his boxers and went into the shower.

Hamilton let the hot water course through his body as he fought the urge to lie down. His head felt heavy.

He still had to go to work at ten.

* * *

"Ms. Kabra!" Natalie's secretary, Sue Shalani, a twenty-four year old Indian-American who grew up in Washington with brown eyes and dark hair raced toward her, magazines in hand.

Natalie, nursing a cup of hot espresso, looked up at her. She waved the magazines at Natalie's face. It took a moment for the Briton to realize what was so alarming with the magazines that her secretary had to call her attention to it.

On the front covers of the three magazines that Sue picked out, her face along with that of her husbannd's was splashed all over the covers.

"So the media had finally caught up to it huh?" she thought sardonically.

"What do you want me to do about it?" she snapped at the Indian woman. The woman visibly cowered.

"I-I just thought you wanted to know," she stammered. Natalie sighed. She was being unfair to her.

"Just get back to work, okay?"

Sue nodded and scurried away like a scared dog.

The Briton unconsciously fisted her hand into a ball under her jet black office table made of faux metal. Could this day possibly get worse?

Natalie was resisting the urge to look out the window. She was more than sure that the media was there by now, awaiting her presence like a couple of filthy peasants awaiting their master.

She sighed and contemplated whether or not she should call him. Everyone in Hollywood knew that he had many contacts in the tabloids. And if he demanded for a return, she could certainly give it to him.

She called him before her brain could tell her to stop.

* * *

In the seven years that Hamilton was in LA, he had received many calls from people calling in to ask a favor. Sometimes it's help with a broken pipe (Some people just can't or won't, for that matter, afford a plumber.). Sometimes it's help with a girl.

The bigger favors started coming in when he made his name in the industry as one of the best digital animators (after many many party invitations and phone numbers). His celebrity "friends" (Hamilton wasn't that naïve.) and other prominent members of the LA high-life started calling in for help with the media. He had granted most of the favor calls. After all, Hamilton wasn't the type of guy who ignored calls for help.

But Natalie Kabra, art-dealer extraordinaire and socialite, had never called him for favors. And he was pretty sure that she was aware of his reputation as a local "fixer". Her husband did call for a favor. (And Hamilton was more than eager to help him because Nick was one of the more "genuine" personas in Hollywood and was actually one of his good, real friends.) But she never did. Even though he saw her name splashed on newspapers and magazines at some points connecting her to some issue (tax evasion, etc.) but she never really asked for help from him at least.

So he was shocked when he saw her name on the caller ID.

"Hello," he answered, his voice a bit unsure.

"Hi, this is Natalie Kabra," she said. "Can we meet later at lunch?"

He cleared his throat before saying, "Let me check if I'm free by then."

Hamilton put down his phone and dialled the extension of his secretary.

"Yes Mr. Holt," the nasally voice of his secretary sounded.

"Do I have anything scheduled for today's lunch?"

He heard the typing and mouse-clicking of his secretary over at the other line.

"No, you're free."

"Okay, thanks Dottie."

He switched back to his phone.

"I'm free for lunch."

There was a pause before Natalie continued, "Great! Corner Cafe, East Avenue. Sound fine?"

"Sure," he said absentmindedly.

Click.

"Not even a proper goodbye?" he grumbled to himself.

* * *

Natalie Kabra looked at her watch. 11:40. Corner Cafe was at least a twenty-minute drive from her headquarters. She leaned to the edge of her desk and snuck a look at the window.

"Yep, they're still there," she thought begrudgingly. Her fingers dialled the extension for the security department.

"Hello," a dark, heavily-masculine voice answered.

"This is Natalie Kabra," she practically heard the guard shifting in his seat from the other line. "Get those paparazzis out of there. Clear them out. I want them out by the time I go down from my office. And don't ever allow them to enter the premises."

"Yes ma'm."

Natalie dropped the call and prepared her things.

"Dude," said Nick, "please-just help me with her."

Hamilton held the phone to his ear, silently pitying and partly resenting the man on the other line, while he drove his car outside of Hollywood Studios. He was currently working on a project that involved talking pens.

He swore that the people nowadays were getting dumber.

"Dude, you cheated on her. That I know 'cuz you had me come on one of your expeditions. It's Natalie Kabra you married man. You should've expected this the first moment you kissed another girl's lips."

"I still love her Hammer," the voice implored on the other line. "Please convince her to at least consider trying again."

The blonde sighed as he navigated his Escalade into the intersection.

"M'kay, I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks man."

Sometimes he wondered if he was too nice. Ten minutes later, he parked his SUV into a curb in front of Corner Cafe. He looked around the vicinity and concluded subconsciously that it was like any normal lunchtime view.

People walked along restaurant and waiter bustled in and out of restaurants. Some of the customers were sitting outside, some in suits and others in casual clothes, completely oblivious to their surroundings except their coffee cups and newspapers.

He approached the attendant outside of the cafe.

"Natalie Kabra," he said. The waiter, a young lad with bright blue eyes, led him to a secluded corner inside the cafe. The cafe smelt of brewed coffee and baked pastries. The interior was filled with people having their lunches.

Hamilton took the seat opposite Natalie, who was reading a newspaper.

She looked up the moment he sat down.

"Hamilton," she addressed politely.

"Natalie."

"Have you ordered yet?" she asked. "You should try their clubhouse sandwich. It's delicious."

"Sure," Natalie signaled the waiter assigned to them to take his order. After the waiter finished listing down what he ordered, he immediately glided off to the kitchen.

"What did you call for a meeting for?" he turned back to her.

"I'm very well aware that you're good friends with my to-be ex-husband Nick," she started. "And you know about our situation."

He snorted.

"The whole of Hollywood knows about your situation," Hamilton couldn't help spiting.

Her face betrayed a moment of vexation before reverting back to its usual "I'm better than anyone" expression."Of course," she took a sip of her black coffee. "I'm asking you to convince him to sign the divorce papers."

"Typical Nick," Hamilton thought. The waiter went to their table and placed what he ordered down on the table.

"What do I get in return?" the buff blonde asked.

"I'm good friends with Sinead Star-Wizard," she corrected herself.

The Holt kind of suspected that she did it on purpose.

"And what advantage or service can that get me?" he bit at his sandwich.

"Do you have any last words for her? Anything you want to say to her? Do you want to have one last lunch with her?" the brunette dictated. "Depends on you."

He then flashed back to the letter he made three years ago, around the time when he caught wind that she was dating Jonah Wizard. Back then, he and Sinead had just been apart for about a year. The letter had been written in a vodka-soaked stupor and clumsy handwriting. He had intended to mail it to her apartment the next day but dissuaded himself when the time came because of...he wasn't really sure.

"I have a letter for her. I haven't mustered up the courage to give it to her."

"Give it to me then. I'll give it to her."

"I didn't bring it along."

"Mail it to my office then," she fished out a business card from her purse. "I won't give it to Sinead until you convince Nick to sign the papers."

He suddenly remembered his promise to Nick to try to dissuade her from divorcing him.

"But don't you want to consider this for a moment? I mean, I've spoken to him, he sounds ruined."

She sighed. "I bet you know the whole story then?" she looked visibly bothered and sad at the same time.

Somewhere deep inside, Hamilton felt genuine sympathy for her.

"Yeah, I do."

"Then you also know why I can't forgive him?"

Hamilton felt depressed just by looking at the expression on her face. She really did love Nick Spencer.

"I guess."

"So," she started, her face reverting back to its usual professional expression, "are you going to help me?"

He clenched his fist under the table. Why was she so impatient?

"Sure."

"Great," a smile plastered itself on Natalie Kabra's features. "Let's eat then."

* * *

Hamilton sat in his desk and turned the cream-laiden envelope in his hand.

_Get Nick to sign the papers. Then I'll give your letter to Sinead._

He kept asking himself why he couldn't just give the letter himself to Sinead. The answer hit him every time he thought about it.

He can't help but feel that certain pain in his chest, the kind of pain you felt when you realized that you've lost something valuable or worth living for. Attending her wedding had already been painful enough for him.

The blonde sighed and closed his eyes.

Maybe tomorrow will be a new day.

Disclaimer: I don't own the 39 Clues or anything associated with it.


End file.
